Nancy had been holding her breath. She let it out in surprise. "If I have anything to say about it, it's a deal."
The Master of Sinanju bowed, and with a last forlorn look at the slumbering dragon of Africa, he padded from the barn.
"Remo, you will give this woman our secret telephone number."
"Secret?" Nancy said.
"Actually, this is a 'don't call us, we'll call you' situation."
Nancy followed Remo to the barn door, "You're not leaving me alone to work this out, are you?"
"Don't sweat it. I'll make a call and I guarantee you the Army or Air Force or someone will show up by sunrise."
Nancy followed Remo out into the Pennsylvania night, but the sight of clumps of curious Amish farmers converging on the barn forced her to double back.
"Damn!" she muttered. "I hope I don't have to explain the entire Mesozoic to those people."
The next day, Remo listened to Harold Smith explain the aftermath of the night's events.
"The board of directors of Burger Triumph has resigned en masse," Smith said.
"They're hamburger any time you say," Remo suggested.
"Not necessary. The Justice Department will be issuing indictments soon for crimes ranging from bringing a wild animal into the country without meeting the proper quarantine and inoculation requirements to endangering an endangered species."
"That ought to get them three whole weeks in Leavenworth," Remo said.
"The Apatosaur is now safe in the Zoological Gardens in Philadelphia," Smith went on.
"How'd you manage that?"
"A helicopter skycrane and the Army Corps of Engineers. It was dangerous, but the only way to move the creature. Dr. Derringer was very helpful in supervising the transfer."
"What's going to happen to it?"
"Unclear," Smith said wearily. "The Burger Triumph people, without admitting any corporate culpability, have agreed to underwrite the animal's food and board. Already, protest groups have surfaced demanding the creature be returned to its native habitat."
"Figures."
"The bodies of the so-called Congress for a Green Africa have been identified. They had no connection with the real group of that name, which are still operating in Africa. The dead men were known criminals, apparently hired to create a plausible threat to the animal so that its death could be faked without suspicion."
"One thing I don't get," said Remo. "Who were the guys firing blanks in Africa?"
"This is surmise," said Smith, "but if as Dr. Derringer reported, they could not be the U.S. group because they spoke in African accents, and they were not the actual Congress for a Green Africa, they could only be African mercenaries of some sort. It is fairly clear that Burger Triumph must have bribed President Oburu in order to get the dinosaur out of Africa. My guess is they were units of the Gondwanalandian Army pretending to be the ecoterrorist group. The Congress for a Green Africa is tailor-made as a scapegoat, after all"
"Well, I'm glad that's all over with. I've lost all my illusions where dinosaurs are concerned and I'd just as soon forget the whole thing happened."
"It might cheer you up to learn that Doyce Deek had confessed to a total of seven murders and the Utah authorities have begun reviewing the conviction of Roy Shortsleeve. A process from which the ACLU is keeping a conspicuous distance. It seems they are under growing pressure to close their Salt Lake City office. They have not been able to explain the dead convicts in their dumpster."
Remo laughed. "My week will be complete if you have some bad news about Dr. Gregorian."
"That matter is still under review," Smith said. "I will let you know. In the meantime, I have a plane to catch."
"Vacation?"
"A day trip to the Zoological Gardens. I am quite anxious to see this Apatosaur with my own eyes."
"Don't get too close," Remo warned.
"I understand it is quite tame."
"Mushroom breath," Remo said. "It'll get you every time."
After Remo had hung up, he went upstairs to the meditation room, where the Master of Sinanju sat attired in a gold silk kimono, his eyes closed.
Remo settled onto a mat facing Chiun. The Master of Sinanju did not open his eyes. "Smith says it's a wrap on the Bronto," Remo said.
"I do not care."
"Still burned about losing out on a drumstick?"
"The creature cannot live forever. I will outlive it. I can afford to be patient."
"Glad to hear it. So when are we moving?"
"Never."
"What about all the so-called 'undesirable' neighbors you've been moaning about?"
The Master of Sinanju opened his eyes. "This castle is now my home, small as it is. I will not be driven from it by squatters."
Remo's face fell. Then his dark eyes grew crafty. "You mean you're willing to coexist peacefully with thieving Chinese, greedy Japanese, and slovenly Vietnamese practically pounding at the castle gates?"
"No."
"Good."
"Beginning tomorrow, Remo, you will go from door to door and inform all Vietnamese, Chinese, and other undesirables that they must find a new city in which to dwell. Tell them that this is the wish of the Reigning Master of Sinanju."
"And if they decline your polite request?" Remo asked.
The Master of Sinanju closed his hazel eyes, his face serene. "Drown them in the moat. After you have dug it, of course."